


Children of Winter

by KHansen



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: A tiny amount of angst but not really, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Outsider, mostly just pining, the four seasons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25058788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KHansen/pseuds/KHansen
Summary: Winter explains to Jaskier how seeing his heartbreak makes Winter so incredibly sad that they wanted to do something for the boy. Jaskier asks them what it is and tilts his head curiously, so exactly like Summer does that it makes Winter laugh, and Winter presents him with a key.“It is a key to your heart, Jaskier,” Winter says seriously, “I am so very saddened by how much heartbreak you experience, I thought I might give you a way to avoid it in the future.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 17
Kudos: 251
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #003





	Children of Winter

With the dawn of every day, the brush of every breeze, the splash of every stream, and the buzz of every bee it is apparent that the world bends and changes and morphs into the seasons. The Winter Solstice heralds in the new year and the ice and snow and bitter cold of Winter has its firm grasp on the trees barren of leaves and bulbs frozen in the ground until it begins to wrestle with Spring. Spring fights Winter for control of the land by being gentle and sneaky, growing beneath the snow and warming the world from below while Winter still has a hold of the sun. Spring crocuses will pop through the powder and deer will daintily step through the slush and no matter how many blizzards Winter throws, their grasp slips to the shadows and then fades away entirely. 

But Spring doesn’t have long to celebrate their victory, they work hard and they work fast to coax new life into the world. They convince animals to birth, plants to procreate, crops to germinate, and sprogs to sprout up so fast their parents remark that they’re growing like a weed. So distracted is Spring with their work that they don’t notice Summer pounce upon them, the Midsummer Festivals marking the turning point in the weather and celebrating life in the world. One day the weather is balmy and mild and the next it is sweltering and the sun is beating down to the tune of cicadas in the grasses and dandelions on the roads. Plants thrive and grow and dry out and everything is green and bright and colorful in Summer. The majority of the circle of life occurs during Summer, and Summer is very proud of that fact. 

They’re so prideful in this that Autumn can slip under their arm and watch Summer for a little while, cooling the days off while the sun still shines bright and hot overhead. Autumn eases Summer to sleep, the heat sliding into cool temperatures and the plant life turning brilliant orange and red and yellow and brown as they cast off their seeds into the world! Hoping to land someplace before Winter arrives once more and steals the world from Autumn’s hands, layering it with snow and ice and bitter cold once more.

It is on a cool morning belonging to Summer, as the sun just barely began to breach the sky from where he slumbered the night before while the moon danced her merry jig, that a babe is born screaming and wailing his little lungs out, because that’s what babies do. Summer watches in interest to see who this child is, as they do with all their children, and the other seasons crowd around to see Summer’s newest babe (for they have the most children with Autumn close behind).

The babe has dark brown hair the color of the bark that shields the majestic oak trees from the bite of Winter and eyes a bright and icy blue. His skin is pale and while there’s always the potential for it to be kissed by the sun it’s clear that this babe will never have tanned skin, will always be light and freckle instead and turn pink in the heat. The babe’s parents name him Jaskier, after the buttercups that grow in the fields near their houses, and Summer and Spring and Autumn all coo over the darling child, while Winter does not.

“Winter, why are you being such a grouse?” Spring crosses their arms at Winter, sending the cold season a sour look, “Aren’t you happy for Summer to be gaining another child?”

“Of course,” Winter mutters, “But you look at that babe, that Jaskier, and you tell me that he is not supposed to be a child of mine instead.”

“All I see is a babe born in the Summer, which means he is a child of Summer,” Autumn says diplomatically, “Physical appearance shouldn’t affect who our children are.”

Winter splutters indignantly, “No! I didn’t mean- I just meant- can’t you all see it? He’s supposed to belong to me, to Winter, I can see it in his Destiny!” The other seasons are looking at Winter skeptically and Winter gently turns their heads back towards the babe, “Look! Look! You look at his Destiny and tell me what you see.”

Spring purses their lips and is the first to speak, “I see… oh, dear… I see heartbreak. So much heartbreak, because this boy will love everyone he meets so fiercely that when they leave him it will break his heart.”

Summer is next, tilting their head as they curiously regard their child, “I see a musician! Someone who will dance and sing and be as influential as any King because he’ll be able to convince the masses with a turn of phrase. Well done, my boy!”

Autumn hums and clasps their hands in front of them calmly, “I see intelligence. A smart boy with a knack for memorization and mathematics. A professor perhaps.”

“And I see that he will belong to me someday,” Winter places their hand upon Summer’s shoulder, ignoring the heat that radiates off of their sibling and shoots pain down Winter’s arm, “Please, Summer, let me have the child now. I know not how he could be a child of Summer now and belong to Winter later, wouldn’t it be easier to just allow him to be a child of mine?” 

Summer is quiet as they think, which means they are thinking very hard because Summer is rarely quiet, before shaking their head sadly, “I’m sorry, Winter. I feel it in me that it would be wrong to give the boy to you now. You must have patience, my friend, for if his Destiny truly says he will belong to you someday then you must trust in Destiny to do her bidding.”

Winter’s shoulders slump and they sigh heavily, wrapping their arms around themselves, “I understand, thank you for your kindness, Summer.” 

“Of course.”

The seasons stay and watch the boy, the Jaskier, grow and grow and grow. Just as Autumn saw in his Destiny, he goes to a university and studies hard and becomes a Master of the Seven Liberal Arts. And just as Summer saw, he plays the lute and dances jigs and sings songs all across the Continent for audiences of every shape and size. And just as Spring saw, he suffers heartbreak at every turn. The cat he befriends scratches him, the boy he holds hands with holds hands with somebody else, the girl who kisses him only does it to get the attention of a different girl, the person he asks to marry him tells him no. 

Jaskier falls in love over and over and over again and his heart is broken again and again and again and Winter just can’t stand to see it, they just can’t stand seeing the boy who would one day belong to them collapsing on his bed to cry another night. Watching as another person the boy falls in love with turns him away. Not doing anything as his heart becomes colder and colder, not dissimilar to many of the children of Winter. 

Winter loves their children, no matter how small or cold the hearts of the children are when they are born, but they also love Jaskier and all his fiery spirit and bright songs and happy smiles. Winter doesn’t want to see him be heartbroken anymore, so he goes down to the world and visits the boy in a dream as he sleeps under the stars outside of a little town called Posada.

They bring Jaskier into a dream of snow and ice and bitter cold and Jaskier’s bright blue eyes, the color of cornflowers and not ice according to the humans, light up with giddy glee at the icicles dripping off of the branches of evergreen trees. At the holes in the snow from the droplets breaking and falling into the powder. At the gray sky overhead and the way the wind whistles through the barren trees and the ground crunches underfoot and Winter has never loved anyone more than they love Jaskier.

Winter explains to Jaskier how seeing his heartbreak makes Winter so incredibly sad that they wanted to do something for the boy. Jaskier asks them what it is and tilts his head curiously, so exactly like Summer does that it makes Winter laugh, and Winter presents him with a key.

“It is a key to your heart, Jaskier,” Winter says seriously, “I am so very saddened by how much heartbreak you experience, I thought I might give you a way to avoid it in the future.”

Jaskier looks at the key for a long time before gingerly taking it from Winter, cradling to his chest. He looks up at Winter and smiles for them, a soft and loving smile that’s just a little bit sad as he says, “The heartbreak does hurt. It’s scary to know that everyone I fall in love with, I fall deeply in love with, even if just for a night. But without the heartbreak, how would I be able to appreciate how truly special love is? If I do not have something to compare it against, what would make love worth having?” Jaskier looks down at the key in his hands before carefully slipping it into his doublet and taking Winter’s hands in his own, “Thank you for this generous gift, Winter. I will keep it with me always, and I only hope I never feel like I have to use it.”

Winter sadly squeezes Jaskier’s hands and nods, too choked up to speak as they release the boy from the dream and go hide in the Blue Mountains to think. They understand Jaskier’s reasoning, but is love really worth all the heartbreak to get to it?

The very next day, Jaskier meets a Witcher.

* * * * *

Geralt of Rivia is a child of Winter. He was born, long before Jaskier, with a big heart, but it was cold and needed the proper care and nurturing to coax it into something warm and bleeding and wonderful. Geralt got that care for the first six years of his life, and his heart thawed and became so beautiful that it dazzled Winter and they were so excited to see where he would go with that big, beautiful heart…

And then Geralt’s mother gave him away. The Witchers take good care of Geralt, they feed him and clothe him and teach him how to fight to protect himself. They teach him how to read and write and do chores and care for a horse. They also raise him to be a sacrifice. A sacrifice to the potions they’ll force down his throat. A sacrifice to the Path. A sacrifice to the humans who hate Witchers. They tell him not to form attachments, especially not with humans, for it will make you weak on the Path and a weak Witcher is a dead one. 

Despite all of this, while Geralt’s heart grew colder again, it never froze like it was when he was born. Even out on the Path, where Geralt saw and experienced terrible tragedy and horrible injustice, his heart never froze over completely. Oh, he pretended it did to try and make it hurt less when humans were cruel or somebody he protected ran away screaming, but it stayed raw and bleeding and just a little bit warm from the tiny acts of kindness he would get from children or the odd grandmother or just his horse.

And then Geralt met a bard.

At this point, Summer had grown bored with Jaskier, only checking in on him from time to time as they were preoccupied with all their other children. This was perfectly alright with Winter, because it meant they got less questions about why they spent so much of their time watching a child that doesn’t even belong to them.

They watch in amusement as Jaskier stumbles and flirts awkwardly because he thinks Geralt is attractive. They watch as Geralt secretly finds the positive attention...nice. They watch as Jaskier follows Geralt out of the tavern to face the so-called devil and chatting all the while because Jaskier is a child of Summer and doesn’t know how to just  _ be _ in the quiet and Geralt, who has had far too much time to just  _ be _ in the quiet pretends not to like the chirping. They watch as Jaskier tries to offer Geralt information to be helpful, and how Geralt protects Jaskier even though he doesn’t have to, and how Jaskier decides then and there to improve the image of Witchers’ everywhere. Just for this one.

Winter watches with a knowing smile as Jaskier falls in love with Geralt, and shows Geralt what it is to be loved and how to love in return and they think it’s going splendidly but they look away for just a moment, just a  _ second _ , and there’s suddenly a sorceress between the two.

Yennefer of Vengerberg is a child of Spring. She pushes and pokes and prods and forces her way into things because she wants to have control. Over her life, over other people’s lives, over the world. She says she wants power, but Winter knows that it’s just control that she desires. Stability. Love. They do not hate her for coming between Jaskier and Geralt, but they also aren’t quite sure just… where exactly she came from. They didn’t see anything involving sorceresses in Geralt’s Destiny, and they’re certain that someone with as big a presence as Yennefer would have been in Geralt’s Destiny before. She’s certainly there  _ now _ , but it looks… unnatural. Like their bond is tainted.

Winter finds themself smiling less and less as Geralt goes to Yennefer for comfort that she doesn’t know how to give, as Geralt goes to Yennefer for support that she doesn’t want to give, as Geralt goes to Yennefer for companionship that she’s only half interested in. They see how every time Geralt goes to Yennefer it breaks Jaskier’s heart just a little bit more, too, and Winter feels alarm when they see Jaskier start fiddling with the key whenever he is alone. Would Jaskier really lock his heart against further pain if Geralt chooses Yennefer?

It seems that Winter need not worry, for all that Jaskier fiddles and contemplates and thinks, he never actually locks his heart away. Always choosing to tuck the key away again until the next time Geralt goes to Yennefer and then Jaskier will bring the key out and fiddle and contemplate and think before putting it away again. Winter knows Jaskier is mature enough to handle the heartbreak of his love choosing someone else, so long as they’re happy together, because Winter has seen Jaskier do it over and over and over again.

Winter is just starting to relax again when their child decides to go on a dragon hunt, despite Jaskier’s protests against the wisdom of such an endeavor, and Winter finds themself agreeing with Jaskier as they begrudgingly watch Geralt follow Yennefer around the same way Jaskier has followed Geralt around. Their feeling of dread only grows as Geralt and Yennefer leave Jaskier behind again and again and the child of Summer ends up acting like a bit of a bumbling buffoon as he tried to find his metaphorical footing, unable to fall in with any one group and his heart breaking all over again. 

Winter’s nose is nearly touching the ground as they watch Geralt and Yennefer fight, finding out that their child used a  _ Djinn Wish _ to bind their destinies together, which explains where she came from. Winter doesn’t blame her for being upset, she desires control and love and stability and Geralt has taken that choice from her and Winter finds that they agree with her, how can she and Geralt ever know if what they feel for each other is real or just from the Wish? Then that dragon fellow, who is a child of nobody and Winter’s not quite sure how he popped into existence, said something about Destiny, which Geralt is tetchy about and Yennefer needed to get the last word in so she lashes out and then all is quiet. 

Winter doesn’t really like that dragon fellow.

Geralt’s big heart is bleeding more than it has in a very long time because his time with Jaskier and even his time with Yennefer has warmed it up and Geralt’s heart is so full of pain and fear and sadness that Winter feels their own heart breaking for their child. And they smile as they see Jaskier carefully approach, beautiful, darling, wonderful Jaskier, who always manages to help Geralt feel better and Winter can tell Jaskier is worried about his dearest friend, the man he loves, and he’s not sure what to do so he decides to be big and brash and funny to try and whiplash the mood in another direction, just like Summer would. 

But Geralt doesn’t agree that that’s what should happen, and Winter frowns as they watch their child push away his closest friend because he is  _ scared _ . He’s afraid of what it could feel like to lose Jaskier, if it hurts this much to lose Yennefer. And Winter whines softly as Jaskier’s heart  _ shatters _ .

“I’ll see you around, Geralt.”

And Jaskier walks away. He walks down the mountain, following the trail they came up, even following the dwarven shortcut and leaping across the broken boards as it makes his heart pound with terror because Jaskier is afraid of heights but he doesn’t  _ know _ how else to get back down. And that makes him angry which makes his heartache worse and worse until he just screams into the forest and when that doesn’t help he goes back to the dwarven shortcut and stands at the edge, pulling out the key.

_ Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. _

Jaskier locks up his heart, and he throws the key as hard as he can over the edge of the precipice. He watches it fall until it disappears amongst the trees below and then the child of Summer, whose heart is normally so big and bright and bleeding and warm, walks down the mountain. His heart gone cold.

Winter isn’t too worried about Jaskier, they know he can take care of himself quite well even if Geralt never thought so, so they focus their attention on their child of Winter and leave Jaskier to Summer as it should be. Geralt’s heart is bleeding and warm and Winter wants to wrap him in a hug or give him a gift but they’re not sure how they can help him right now so they resolve themself to waiting and watching, just as they did before with Jaskier.

Geralt eventually takes himself off the mountain, his bleeding heart leaving a trail of pain behind him and the salt of tears pressed into Roach’s mane when he sees Jaskier’s things still in her saddlebags but no signs of the bard having stayed. Geralt knows that Jaskier had little more than his lute and the clothes on his back when they met, and more than once has Jaskier been relieved of the majority of his worldly possessions by bandits, the bard is more than capable of making a quick escape and not forming attachments to material possessions. 

And yet Geralt never gets rid of or touches Jaskier’s belongings. Even as he travels the Path and Jaskier’s shirts can be torn up for bandages, even when he gets low on coin and Jaskier’s doublets and jewelry and trinkets can be sold for a pretty penny, even when he gets injured and he’s run out of salve and he knows Jaskier has some specifically for Geralt to use. It’s extra weight, carrying Jaskier’s things, and Winter knows that Geralt knows that.

But Winter also knows that when Geralt looks at Jaskier’s things he thinks and contemplates and sometimes even lets himself  _ hope _ that maybe Jaskier left his things on purpose. Maybe he wasn’t just trying to get away from Geralt so fast that he forgot his belongings. And if Geralt starts sometimes touching Jaskier’s chemises and doublets just because they smell like the bard and they make the bleeding of his heart lessen, just a little bit, well it’s not hurting anybody.

Winter watches with an aching heart as Geralt goes out on a hunt while making a meandering path towards Cintra, to retrieve his Child Surprise, and his room at his inn is broken into. Bandits and humans with anti-Witcher sentiments filch almost all of Jaskier’s luxurious belongings from the saddlebags neatly left on the table. Winter is able to squirrel away a single bottle of chamomile oil, some lute strings, and one gold silk ribbon from Jaskier’s court doublet in the very bottom of the bag underneath Geralt’s extra shirt but they mourn alongside their child when he discovers the treachery done to Jaskier’s things.

He’s much more careful after that, shoving a chair under the door while inside the room and carrying the last three things of Jaskier’s in his pockets when he goes on hunts. Winter would think it cute if it weren’t so fucking sad. They don’t like to swear often, but boy does their heart ache something fierce as they watch over Geralt on his journey. And their heart breaks further as his bleeds more when more villainy is afoot and Calanthe stops Geralt from being able to rescue her granddaughter.

Winter decides to pull on the strings of Fate and see where the child might be, surprise coloring their icy face when the little princess is only a short ways away in the forest filled with dryads.  _ Brokilon _ , Destiny supplies them helpfully and they thank Destiny before going to check on the girl, certain that Geralt is close enough to manage on his own for a time. The man’s been walking the Path for almost sixty years, what’s the worst that could happen?

Winter peers through the trees of the magic infused forest and has a difficult time finding her at first. The canopy shifts and molds to look like they haven’t gotten any closer but when they check they should be on the other side already. The ground rumbles and adjusts and swaps places with other parts of the ground. The plants wind together in sheets that hang from the branches to hide the inhabitants of the forest. Winter huffs and tells the trees that they aren’t here to bring their season to the forest, just to check on the Destiny of one of their children. The trees rustle and shimmy and shake as they converse before the magic clears and allows Winter to look through the leaves at their child’s Child Surprise.

Winter nearly falls to the world in shock. There, walking beside the girl clad in Cintran blue as they head in Geralt’s direction, is Jaskier! He has a sword on his hip and his lute on his back and he’s dressed in deep green silks to make him less noticeable yet still fashionable and Winter didn’t realize how much they missed this little bard, the child of Summer, until their heart jumped for joy at the sight of him. His heart is still cold and frozen, and Winter can see that Cirilla can tell based on the concerned glances she gives him periodically, but he’s polite as anything and kind and every wonderful thing Jaskier has always been. He’s just more… empty now. 

With the secured knowledge of the safety of Geralt’s Child Surprise and Winter’s favorite bardling, they return back to their child. And if Winter had hair to tug on in frustration they absolutely would because the dummy has gone and gotten himself chewed on by ghouls in the  _ two days _ Winter wasn’t watching. He’s sleeping fitfully in the back of a cart and Winter starts to sigh before pausing. This could be it. This could be the time to speak with their child and tell him about Jaskier’s thrown away key. With their mind made up, Winter summons Geralt into a dream.

They make this dream different from the one they had Jaskier in. Jaskier’s was meant to invoke wonder and surprise at the beauty of winter, to test and see if the child of Summer could ever belong to Winter. The dream they craft for Geralt is one of safety, of homeliness. They create the sitting room in Kaer Morhen, snow falling quietly outside the window as the fire crackles merrily in the hearth. Winter sits in an overstuffed armchair and waits.

When Geralt arrives, Winter introduces themself. They tell Geralt how much they love him and how proud they are of him. They explain to him how he is a child of Winter, born in the dark and the cold but nurtured into warmth. They tell him how much his bleeding heart is a blessing in disguise, and that is what gets their child’s attention. He asks what they mean, with a deep frown creasing his handsome face, and Winter chuckles sadly and says they’ll tell Geralt a story.

“Once upon a time, there was a buttercup babe born early in the morning in the Summer. He was precious, but had dark hair like the water soaked bark that protects the oak trees during winter, and he had ice blue eyes. He was born a child of Summer, but I knew the moment I saw him he was meant to be one of mine.

“I looked at the babe’s Destiny, to see what events might unfold in his future, and sure enough… somewhere in that future Destiny says he will belong to me. In those specific words. The other Seasons looked at his Destiny as well, as each of us are better at seeing different things, and Spring wove us a tale of tragedy. The buttercup babe would live a life of heartbreak. Doomed to immeasurable love for everyone he met; and when they left him, even after only a night together, his heart would break again.

“I grew weary, and sad, and my own heart ached for that buttercup babe and all the heartbreak he endured. So I thought of a gift to give him, something to help him, protect him from further heartbreak. I gave him the key to his own heart, to do with as he pleased. He thanked me and he told me that it’s the heartbreak that makes love worth having.”

Geralt is leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his knuckles as he looks at Winter in confusion, “What happened to him?”

Winter sighs and crosses their legs smoothly, resting their hands atop their knee, “He met a Witcher. A white haired little bastard. A child of Winter. And he fell terribly in love.”

Geralt’s face does a set of complicated emotions before settling on a hopeful sort of fear as he croaks, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I made a mistake,” Winter reluctantly admits, “I should never have given him that gift. He’s locked his heart up and thrown away the key because he’s afraid of getting hurt again.”

Their child looks down at his hands, guilt weighing down his bleeding heart, “It’s my fault.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Maybe it’s both our fault. Maybe it’s none of our fault,” Winter shakes their head gently, “It does not do to dwell on the past when the best thing you can do is look to the future. My boy, you love Jaskier. You don’t need to say it but do not deny it for I can see what is in your heart.”

Geralt is quiet for a time and Winter allows him his silence to think and brood and at the end of the long moment of peace, he speaks, “What am I to do?”

“You need to find the key to his heart,” Winter pulls a small glass orb filled with white smoke from the air before reaching forward and taking Geralt’s hand in their own, flipping his palm over so they can press the orb into his hand, “This will grow colder the closer you are. I don’t know its exact location, but it’s somewhere in the Dragon Mountains.” Geralt’s face crumples but he nods as he curls his fingers around the orb and slips it onto the chain of his medallion so it rests upon his chest beside the snarling wolf.

Winter nods their approval and is about to send Geralt out of the dream before they hesitate, “Geralt.” Their child looks up at them inquisitively and Winter stifles a sigh, “I… I’m not good at discussing less straightforward things… Love is easy, forgiveness not so much. You will still need to earn it, boy.” 

Geralt nods, a flash of determination darting across his frightened face, “I will. I’ll try.”

Winter leaves the dream and allows Geralt to awaken naturally, healing the wounds inflicted upon their child as they separate from Geralt’s mind. They watch as their child glances down at his medallion to see if the orb is still there, which it is, proving that Winter had visited and that their words were not falsehoods. 

The merchant riding astride the mule that pulls the cart Geralt is laid up in chatters amiably, still under the impression that the Witcher is unconscious behind him. Geralt tilts his head towards the merchant for a few moments before whipping around towards a sound in the woods and clambering gracelessly out of the cart, jostling it and alerting the merchant to his consciousness.

“Hey! Aren’t you hurt?”

Winter watches in amusement as Geralt ignores the merchant to sprint into the woods towards the clearing where the little princess and Jaskier are about to step out of the treeline. Their child reaches the clearing first, taking a few long strides out of the woods and stopping dead when Cirilla and Jaskier emerge from the other side, also pausing to look at him. The little princess’s eyes fill with relieved tears as she runs to him, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his chest.

Geralt glances up at Jaskier in shock as he hugs her back and the bard just gives him a small shrug with a gentle smile on his lips that doesn’t reach his flat, blue eyes. Winter shudders at the sight, never before have they ever disliked the sight of something the color of ice, but without the warmth of his love, Jaskier’s eyes are the color of a frozen pond. Geralt stiffens slightly and Winter recognizes that he sees that odd look as well, but their child just gives Jaskier a smile in return, one full of tenderness and love.

The bard blinks in surprise and his breath catches in his chest and Winter smiles as Jaskier’s heart becomes just a little bit warmer and the glass orb a little bit colder. The key isn’t a physical thing after all, it’s made of magic created by the Seasons and imbued with power through emotions. Winter just figured they’d send their idiots back towards the mountain for some closure and time to reconnect.

They travel quickly until they find Roach and then Geralt walks alongside her with Jaskier as Cirilla rides in the saddle, the day waning as night falls and the temperature drops with the threat of the impending winter. Winter hasn’t seized the seasons from Autumn yet, and they think they’ll give their sibling a little more time this year so that their child can hopefully get his shit together and quickly.

Winter watches as they make camp and Geralt pitches a tent for the princess to sleep in for warmth while Jaskier collects firewood and lightly forages for anything edible, returning with some mint sprigs and tubers to add to a stew. Dinner is a quiet affair aside from Cirilla talking on occasion to fill the silent night until she’s yawning and Jaskier gently sends her off to bed, leaving himself and the Witcher alone by the dying fire. They sit in a slightly uncomfortable silence and Winter narrows their eyes before sending a crisp breeze to ruffle Geralt’s hair pointedly. 

Their child glances up towards the stars and then over at Jaskier before clearing his throat and beginning to apologize. Jaskier sits quietly and listens and Winter watches as the bardling’s heart melts a little bit more, warming over at the sincerity of their child’s tone and his promises to be a better friend. Jaskier smiles and nods before shifting to sit a bit closer, leaning over and resting his head on Geralt’s shoulder and it seems as good an acceptance of an apology as any.

Winter begs Autumn to keep the warm weather around for two more weeks, just two! They’re certain that’s all their child will need to earn back Jaskier’s trust and for the key to the bard’s heart to reveal itself to them. Then they’ll still have time to get someplace before winter starts and they won’t freeze to death after all the work Winter has put into them. Autumn gives Winter a long-suffering sigh but agrees and Winter hugs them with more gusto than Winter has ever shown in any endeavor before. Autumn looks a bit stunned as Winter hurries off again to keep watching their child and the bardling heal together.

They have a few small arguments as old hurts are dragged to the surface when newer hurts are swept away by forgiveness, but nothing quite so aggrandizing as the fight on the mountain. They’re better at communicating, especially with Cirilla nearby, and every day Winter watches as Jaskier’s heart warms up and the glass orb freezes, the smoke inside turning from white to blue. The bard’s eyes fill with life once more and when he laughs for the first time, Geralt stares at him like the bard had just hung him the moon and the stars.

It’s during one of their fireside talks that Winter sees the last of the ice sluice off of Jaskier’s heart and Geralt feels a heavy weight suddenly appear in his pocket, stopping him mid-sentence. Jaskier tilts his head curiously, just like Summer does, and voices his concern over monsters that he can’t see in the darkness. Geralt shakes his head and reaches into his pocket, shakily pulling out the key and holding it out.

“I think this belongs to you.”

Jaskier looks at it for a very long moment before sliding his cornflower blue eyes up to Geralt’s own golden gaze and speaks softly with a loving smile on his face, “No, it belongs to you, my love.”

* * * * *

The warm, sticky heat of summer is upon them as they stand with their bare feet in white sand. A cool and salty breeze blows their hair around their faces and the Witcher’s white locks are safely secured back in a simple, yet elegant braid. They’re dressed in plain shirts and pants, with their trousers rolled up to their knees and their sleeves folded back to their elbows and they are looking deeply into each other’s eyes with their left hands clasping the other’s forearm, a glimmering golden ribbon from a long gone doublet wrapped around their hands.

They repeat the words given to them by mortal man and by the Seasons, bestowing upon them the precious gift to never outlive one another. And as their friends and small family cheer while their lips press together in a passionate kiss: finally, finally, Jaskier is a child of Winter.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not give permission for my work to be shared or reposted to any other website other than as a weblink to this Archive of Our Own URL with credit given to me.


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